The Ghosts of the Past
by purpleu
Summary: That which haunts us doesn't exist only in our minds. As an image on a screen preys on House's psyche, he learns that some who have touched upon his life are in pain, too. When they come knocking, seeking his help, will he slam the door on them, or will he relent and let in "The Ghosts of the Past."
1. Chapter 1

"Ghosts of the Past"

Chapter One – "An Ill Wind Blows"

By: purpleu

"House, are you ready to come out yet?"

"No; what's the rush?" Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Some of us have other work to do," he replied.

"Besides," Tom said. "How long does it take to put an exam gown on?"

"I'm not putting one on." Foreman, Tom, and Wilson all looked at each other then turned to Lydia. At House's request the four of them were there in the radiology area waiting for him to come out and get the ultrasound test on his leg started. Even though this was House's idea, he clearly still had reservations.

"I'll go talk to him," Lydia said. She stepped around a partition, went down a short hall and stood in front of House's changing cubicle. "Hon, it's me." There was no answer. "Greg?" Suddenly the curtain moved aside and her boyfriend stood before her. He had on the t-shirt he came into the hospital with that morning, his boxers, his socks…and his sneakers.

"I suppose you're here to drag me off to the torture chamber," House said. "This booth isn't very private nor is it soundproof, but care to honor a last request?" Lydia gave House a quick kiss.

"That's all you get for now; you know I'll be massaging your leg later to make it feel better."

"Among other parts of my body," he said with a slight grin. Lydia shook her head.

"Come on, E.L.F.; get changed and let's get this show on the road. Eric and James have a meeting today with a family that's making a donation to the hospital because you saved their daughter's life. You don't have to go because you're having the test done, but they can't be late."

"I'm not Evil, certainly not Little as you well know, nor a Fiend; I'm just warm for your form," House said moving his eyebrows up and down lecherously. "And I have my pants off; that's as much of a show as they're going to get," House said gesturing with his head toward the testing room. "Where Foreman is going to be putting his hand is degrading enough."

"You can't go in with your sneakers on; they shouldn't go up on the exam table, and you don't need them to walk around in there. Behave yourself; take them and your socks off and put the non-skid hospital socks on. If you want to be a nudge and leave your shirt on, just put a gown over it so it looks like you're trying to cooperate," Lydia said. "It's loose enough so they can access your arm if they need to."

"Why would I want to give them the false impression that I'm cooperating? They know me better than that." said House as he sat down on the bench provided for patients to use while prepping for a test. Lydia sighed.

"Greg, if you don't want to do this right now, if you're not ready…it's OK," Lydia said gently. "You only told me about this on Saturday; now it's Thursday. For the number of years you've been putting this off, it's an awfully fast turn-around." House shook his head.

"It's been rattling around in my brain on and off since I got out of Mayfield," he said as he kicked his sneakers off. "I'd keep thinking that maybe there was a chance of…something…but then I'd tell myself I was an idiot and put it out of my head." House pulled off his socks and dropped them on the floor; Lydia knelt down, tucked them into his sneakers and handed him the plastic-wrapped hospital socks. "Then you popped back into my life and I considered the possibilities again." House looked at Lydia as she knelt on one knee next to the bench. "Unfortunately among those possibilities is the chance that there's nothing to be done, and I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life; and so is anyone else who chooses to hang around me."

"And among the other possibilities are doing something to help you feel better; Tom working on different exercises, using different medicines. Or an operation." House shot her a disapproving look. "No answer is going to be easy," Lydia said as House put on the hospital socks and stood up. "But we'll handle it." Lydia handed him a gown. House closed his eyes as he put it on; _we'll handle it._ Unlike other attempts he had made to cope with his handicap, this time he had support; a support he felt he could trust. _Fool though I may be for thinking that,_ House said to himself, _it's about time I tried._ He picked up his cane, stepped into the hallway, and headed toward the testing room. He hesitated at the partition; Lydia, who had been walking right behind him, took his hand.

"I've got what I suggested to you in my pocket," Lydia said hesitantly patting the left side of her sweat jacket. House looked away from her and made a face.

"Thanks, but I'm not going to need it." He stepped around the partition, and into the testing area.

"Well, look who's here," Tom said. "Had trouble figuring out the difference between the left and right socks?"

"No, had trouble figuring out if all of the morons in the room knew the difference between a left and right leg," House answered, referring to the scans Cuddy obviously misread fifteen years ago.

"We know the difference, House," Foreman said. "And just to make sure nothing goes wrong, we have four sets of eyes checking on everything."

"Five," House corrected, pointing at his own.

"Five. We already have the monitor connected to the ultrasound set up so you can see it from the table," noted Foreman. "And one that's going to have the 3-D image I made from your prior MRI. It's the best we can do, short of you doing the test on yourself."

"I could if given the opportunity," House half-muttered. He looked to his left; Wilson was at the console logging House in for the test. Lydia was about to say something when her phone buzzed.

"It's Annie; what's she doing up so early?" she asked.

"She's having trouble sleeping," Wilson said while not taking his eyes off the screen. "And her first student is at eight-thirty." Lydia nodded, and stepped away as she answered the call.

"He's all set," Wilson said rising from the chair and taking his cane. Even though it was assumed his need for it would be temporary, Annie purchased a beautiful rosewood cane with scrolls carved into it for her boyfriend. It wasn't as flashy as House's piano cane or his flame cane, but in Annie's opinion, it was Wilson; subtle and classic. He passed Foreman and Tom as they headed to the console; House waited for him to come over, but Wilson stood several feet away.

"I'm not contagious," House said, aiming the comment at his friend. "And I've had all my shots." Wilson didn't respond. House looked away, confused. "OK, I give up; what did I do to earn the silent treatment?"

"Nothing," Wilson replied quietly. "I'm just not looking forward to this." House frowned.

"Upstaging me, are you? I think I'm the one who shouldn't be pleased with this scenario. An ultrasound is classified as non-invasive, but by the time this is over, I'm going to want to re-write that definition." Wilson's expression didn't change. "You feeling OK?"

"I'm fine." Wilson let out a deep sigh. "I know that this test is probably going to prove that…I should have believed you when you told me about the sort of pain you were in. Taking the amount and kind of drugs you did, trying…anything for relief. Those weren't the actions of someone just looking to get attention…they were the moves of a desperate man. I should've believed you…and I'm sorry I didn't most of the time."

"I have a multitude of ways to get attention if I want it," House said. "And that's without utilizing my now disposed of little black book." He looked at Wilson. "We been over this to infinity and beyond; even if you had believed me, what good would it have done?"

"I could have encouraged you to find out what the hell was causing you that kind of agony," Wilson said. "Instead, I…spent my time trying to figure out how to outsmart you to prove you were wrong about the pain; it seemed like if your mind was sufficiently occupied, your leg didn't hurt as much. Psychosomatic rather than physical." Wilson looked at House. "I was trying to help."

"Your intentions were good, but your methods sucked," House said as he leaned against the wall. "And attempting to outsmart me is always a dangerous endeavor. At this point, the real cause of my pain isn't the goons who did this," he said indicating his leg. "Or anyone thinking I was trying to pull a fast one. It's the two people who didn't trust my judgment when it came to medicine that gives me the biggest pain." Wilson shook his head.

"House…don't; don't dwell on what Cuddy and Stacy did. Their intentions were as good as mine, I'm sure. You can't fix the past." House stared down at the floor.

"You're right; you can't. Which is why I have to drag it around with me every second of every day as a reminder of that."

"House, you want to take a look at the 3-D image Foreman created to use as a guide?" Tom called out.

"Yeah." House made his way to the console; he saw the image was also on the second monitor over by the exam table. Lydia had finished her call and came over to Wilson.

"Annie will be home a bit early today; her last student cancelled on her. She said she'll call you when she's done." Wilson nodded as he watched House talk to Tom and Foreman. "How's he doing?" she asked quietly.

"Right now, he's in the mind-set that Cuddy and Stacy are the source of the problem with his leg," Wilson said. "I guess he's thinking that if Cuddy had looked at the scans more carefully and Stacy had trusted his judgment, he wouldn't be in this position."

"He's been bouncing back and forth the past two days between the idea that the surgeons who did this to him were crazed, vicious bastards and the idea that Cuddy and Stacy were out to get him."

"What?" Wilson said in shock. "Why the hell would he think that they were out to get him?"

"I don't know," Lydia said folding her arms. "He had more than a few drinks in him when he said that to me. Luckily, I convinced him not to have anything other than a beer at dinner last night; I probably shouldn't have let him have that."

"Don't worry," said Wilson reassuringly. "Even using the contrast, one beer at dinner isn't going to do any harm." House, Foreman and Tom moved away from the console.

"Let's get this going," House said as he approached the exam table.

"You want the step stool?" Tom asked. House looked over his shoulder and glared at him as he stood with his back to the table

"Just yesterday, you told me I had the most upper body strength of any of your patients, and now you're wimping me down by offering me a step stool?" House backed up and with his hands on either side of his body, placed them on the table. "Are the wheels locked?" he asked looking at Lydia. She quickly moved around to all four wheels.

"Locked and loaded," she confirmed. Using only his arms and upper body, House got up onto the exam table.

"Nicely done," Wilson said. "Except with your long legs, the table's below your butt to start with, so it's not really very impressive." House caught sight of the gleam in Wilson's eyes; he knew his friend was trying to lighten the mood.

"When's the last time you did one leg, one arm push-ups?" House inquired.

"It's…not part of my current rehab program," Wilson said hesitantly.

"Let me re-phrase that; when did you _ever_ do a one leg…"

"Ok, enough machismo for one day," Tom said laughing. "We all know how tough you are House." Lying down on the table, House gave no answer to his therapist; he reached behind his head and tried to readjust the pillow.

"Got another of these around or something that passes for it? I'm too flat to see the monitors properly," he complained. Lydia went to the supply cabinet and pulled out a blanket. She folded it several times and placed it under the regular pillow.

"Better?' she asked. House nodded. "Do you want a blanket for your lower legs or torso?"

"No; I'm probably going to be sweating before too long." Lydia stepped back and positioned herself next to the head of the table on the right; she could see the monitors as clearly as House did, but wasn't in Foreman's way. Wilson came and stood a few steps behind her so he could also see the screens.

"Here we go," Foreman said, squeezing gel onto the head of the ultrasound wand. "Starting with the inguinal artery and vein…" Foreman manipulated the wand on House's upper inner thigh till he got a clear picture on the monitor. "Looks good, nice blood flow. Save an image of that," he said tapping some keys attached to the control panel of the ultrasound machine. Lydia had the feeling Foreman was doing the narrative out loud for her benefit; while she had been present at ultrasounds before, this was going to be the first time she was seeing one with the type of complications House was going to present.

"Watch where you put that thing," House growled as he jumped at Foreman's placement of the wand. "Or else my girlfriend will beat you up. She has a vested interest in keeping that part of my anatomy functioning."

"That wasn't the wand," Foreman said.

"Maybe next time you should take your watch off," Tom suggested.

"Whatever it was, get down to where it'll do some good," directed House. Foreman silently chuckled as he moved the instrument around on House's leg, glancing at the 3-D image for guidance. "So, there's some small, healthy muscle that can be seen coming down from the inguinal canal." Foreman took an image again. Wilson stepped forward to get a better look at the monitor; he was glad there was something good found right at the beginning of the test. He knew the good luck couldn't last for long. Wilson, Lydia and Tom noticed that House was becoming a little restless; he kept moving his head around and wincing. Foreman saw it too.

"Sorry, House; I've moved onto your scar," he noted.

"Didn't need you to tell me that," House said. Lydia didn't know if it was the lighting or not, but she thought her boyfriend was starting to look a little pale. She turned her attention to the screen; the image was very fuzzy, very foggy looking. _Perhaps it's my untrained eyes,_ she thought to herself. Lydia noticed Foreman was squinting, narrowing his eyes and watching the screen very intently; Tom was doing the same

"This is like trying to navigate your way around London," Foreman said, his eyes darting back and forth between the MRI 3-D image and the one the ultrasound was giving him. He pressed down harder on the leg, trying to get angle where something could be more discernable. Lydia saw the look on House's face; as much as it eased things a little when either one of them massaged his leg in the scar area, having the hard wand roll over it had quite the opposite effect.

"DAMN! Are you enjoying this?" House said sarcastically to Foreman. "It sure as hell feels like you are."

"I feel like a damn freaking rookie at the moment," Foreman said putting more gel on the wand so it would slide more easily.

"It feels like that to me, too." House winced and curled his hand into a fist so he wouldn't reach down for his thigh and get in Foreman's way. House felt Lydia put her hand on top of his, but he wouldn't look at her. Between the pain and trying to discern something on the monitors, he was in no mood to play nice. He had taken all his medicine before leaving the house this morning since it wouldn't interfere with any contrast to be used to obtain a clearer picture; but having the scar area assaulted like this, was a pain unlike any other. Foreman had continued to press in and turn the viewing instrument every way he could; no matter what he did, no clearer image revealed itself.

"House, you want to take a break?" Tom asked. House didn't answer at first.

"You need to use contrast. Micro bubbles," he finally said looking at Foreman. Lydia looked puzzled as Foreman nodded his agreement with House.

"It's the only way we're going to see anything. I'll call the pharmacy and have them bring it down." Foreman took a paper towel, wiped the gel from House's leg and took off his gloves. He gave Tom a quick look as he left to make the call.

"I've heard of using micro bubbles as contrast but how exactly does it work?" Lydia asked.

"Simplest explanation is that they provide the best echo or bounce back of the ultrasound waves. The difference between the gasses in the bubbles and the surrounding soft tissue is immense, so they help give the best picture," House said as he reached for his leg. "They're also small and uniform in size, one to four micrometers."

"So it will be administered to you the same way regular dye contrast would be; through an IV in your arm." said Lydia.

"Yep. And when you get to medical school I'm sure you'll learn all about it," House said giving her a slight smile.

"Or I could go look it up on the internet and you could tell me all the parts they got wrong."

"Always go directly to an expert; and the best one at that," Tom said nodding toward House. Wilson had stepped away; he now came back with some paper towels in his hands.

"I noticed you're sweating," he said to House. "Thought you'd want to dry off."

"Thanks," House said as he took the paper from Wilson.

"Do you need some water, Hon?" Lydia offered.

"No." House looked at Tom. "Must be a rat's nest in there if Foreman couldn't even get an image. Either that or he's more out of practice than I thought."

"House, sitting on your butt behind a desk all day doesn't exactly give you a chance to practice the medical part of medicine," Wilson said ruefully. "It's not a good place for a real doctor to be." House knew Wilson hated the lack of contact with patients in his temporary administrative position. That dislike had only gotten worse since he came back after the shooting and the discovery of his cancer.

"He still knows how to do an ultrasound," House said starting to rub his leg. "He's taking great pleasure in it at my expense."

"I'm going to go pick up the contrast from pharmacy; they're telling me it'll be half an hour before they can get it down here," Foreman said sounding disgusted as he walked back over to the group. "I didn't even bother to ask what the hang up could be at this hour of the morning; I don't want to know."

"You wouldn't think there could be anything causing a delay this early in the day," Lydia said looking at her watch. "It's not even seven yet."

"Don't remind me that we could all be home sleeping right now," Foreman said rubbing his eyes.

"It's my interrupted sleep I'm most concerned about," House said as he sat up. "Not that I slept last night."

"You're the one who wanted to do the test so damn early," Tom said.

"Yeah, because I didn't want an audience," House replied.

"Good morning!" House looked over his left shoulder; he winced and turned his head away from the door as Thirteen, Chase and Taub entered the room.

"'You can't always get what you want,'" Wilson began to quietly sing. House glanced over his right shoulder.

"I can't even get what I need," House said. "Which would be my 'friend' not making smart-assed musical notations." Wilson said nothing, but smiled as he walked away from the table.

"So, are you done already?" Chase asked looking confused.

"Barely begun," Foreman replied. "As soon as I got to the scar, it became a blotchy mess; couldn't clearly make things out. We'd just be guessing and there's no point in that; we're here, we might as well get it right. House wants to use micro bubbles to get a better view."

"Why don't you toddle along and pick the stuff up? Or else it _will_ be half an hour that I'm waiting," House noted. Foreman nodded, and headed out of the room. House turned to his team. "What are you doing here? Don't you have some Petrie dishes to cultivate? Or traffic to play in?"

"We came to see how you're doing," Thirteen said. House looked at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes.

"Where are your glasses?" Thirteen sighed.

"They're in my pocketbook."

"Great place for them," said House sharply. "I bet they're having a blast memorizing your debit card and reading the instructions on your preferred method of monthly feminine protection." He gestured toward the monitors. "The screens are going to look blurry to you whether they are or not."

"I see OK at this distance," Thirteen said. "I'm not going upstairs to get them. You're not getting rid of us that easily."

"You're here because you're worried about House," Tom said. "We all are, but I think…"

"They can stay," House said cutting him off. "Doctor/patient confidentiality is going to be non-existent around here; that's a gimme." He saw Taub craning his neck to get a better look at his leg. "It's not anything you haven't already seen. It hasn't changed since all of you laid me bare when I came in after the Jenga tower collapsed."

"Actually, other than making sure that the scar hadn't been compromised in any way, we paid very little attention to it," Taub noted. "You had plenty of other injuries that we concerned ourselves with. I…I just thought that when you get the test results…if you're going to consider any kind of surgery as an option, you're going to need a reconstructive plastic surgeon."

"And if I want a good one I know where to look; the Yellow Pages has lots of them listed," House responded.

"I'm not trying to push anything," Taub said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to offer some help." House closed his eyes and dropped his head. He hated looking down at his scar; no scar was ever pretty, but his was always raw and angry. Perhaps given the circumstance under which the surgery had been performed and who performed it, that assessment was correct. Taub would be the best candidate to do the work if House ever decided that he would subject himself to surgery again. He knew he could trust Taub…trust his whole team for that matter.

"You can look." Taub and everyone else the room just stared at House; they couldn't believe what he said. Taub slowly came around to the right side of the table and grabbed a pair of exam gloves out of the box on the nearby counter. Part of the exam gown was covering the scar; Taub moved it up carefully. House watched his face as the area was revealed. Taub's mouth fell open in shock.

"They…they didn't even try to finish this properly! They didn't even make an attempt to fake it! This…this looks horrific!" he said shaking his head.

"I think that was the general intention," House said dourly. "Should send them a note congratulating them in their accomplishment."

"House, a four-year-old could have done a better job!" Taub exclaimed.

"Is Elise busy?" asked House as he looked at Lydia. She and Wilson were the least taken back by the scar; they each had seen it many times.

"House, is it OK if I touch it? I'm guessing with how hard Foreman's had to push to try and do the ultrasound, it's already bothering you," Taub said. "I don't want to make it worse."

"That'd be impossible at this point," House said. He gestured with his hand for Taub to go ahead. Taub gently prodded along the edges of the scar, and going in a circular motion worked his hand to the center, all the while shaking his head.

"Taub, if House…by some miracle…ever decides to have an operation on his leg, can you do…something…with it?" asked Wilson. "Or…"

"It really depends on what is or isn't underneath there," Taub said frowning. "I'm assuming there's going to be vascular and nerve reconstruction needed…" He spread his hands apart. "I don't want to say any more until we see the ultrasound." He looked at House. "I'm making assumptions; a bad idea, I know." House stared down at his leg; for the briefest moment he was willing to consider anything to get rid of the damn scar. To have it look like his left leg, to not see that pathetic look of sympathy in Lydia's eyes when she ran her hand over it, to feel like a normal man again…for a nanosecond, he was willing to do anything. House shook his head to clear his thoughts; he turned to Chase. "Get me set up for the contrast so Foreman can start it as soon as he gets back." Taub took off the exam gloves and tossed them in the collection container. Chase came around, got the needed items out to get House's veins set up to accept an IV. Chase worked quickly and efficiently, and in no time the IV hook up was in place in House's arm.

"Found out what the hold-up was with pharmacy," Foreman said when he came back into the room a few minutes later. "One staff member is in the ER with their mother who was brought in with a heart attack and the other had a fender bender on their way into work; they'll be here in a little while."

"Well, at least they both have very good excuses," Lydia said. "I was afraid that the answer was going to be that the department was understaffed."

"We've managed with what we have so far; if we can get through the next quarter without making cuts, I'll be happy," Foreman said. "Not that the increased claim settlements from the insurance department haven't helped tremendously," he said giving Lydia a smile. He opened the bag of contrast and inserted the needle into the receptacle on the IV line in House's arm. Adjusting the pillow/blanket combination under his head, House laid back down. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as they all looked at each other, except for House; he had closed his eyes, trying to shut the world out.

"Lydia, are the kids all set with their Halloween costumes?" Thirteen finally asked. It was an appropriate question and was effective at getting the conversation rolling again.

"Yes, they're all ready. Ben is going as a doctor with Greg as his patient; Elise is going as a music teacher," she said turning to look at Wilson.

"Annie is giving her a bunch of sheet music on a clipboard to make it easier to carry," Wilson said smiling. "House got her a kazoo and Lydia found a sweatshirt that says 'Without music, life would B-flat.'"

"That's adorable," Chase said. "What about Tommy and Shelly?" he asked Tom.

"They're both going as zombies," Tom said with a shrug. House's eyes opened.

"Why can't your kids be that cool and fun?" he asked turning to look at Lydia. He saw that she was trying not to laugh.

"I'm not answering that," she said laughing more with each passing second. House looked at her like she was crazy; then dawning recognition took over.

"Zombie axe cane," they said together. Tom looked confused; he had never been told about all of House's hallucinations. House team however, knew nearly all of it and started to laugh along with Lydia.

"I'll explain it at the next poker game," House said to Tom. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "Let's do this," he said to Foreman. Donning gloves again, Foreman put gel back on the wand.

"The inguinal artery and vein were clear with good blood flow; there's even some good small muscle seen," Foreman said to the team to bring them up to speed. "Now let's see what the bubbles show us." He moved the wand back on to House's scar; even though he didn't have to press as hard as he did earlier, House was still clearly uncomfortable. "What the…" There was an audible gasp as the shoddy workmanship of the surgeons became apparent on the screen.

"They literally just hacked away at things," Chase said dumbfounded.

"That isn't surgery; it's butchery," Tom said. He kicked a nearby stool. "Sons-of-Bitches!"

"Careful or you'll fall on your ass," House said. "That's my trick lately." He turned his attention back to the screen as he noticed everyone was staring at it, and not with good looks on their faces.

"Foreman, what's bursting the bubbles?" Thirteen asked. Foreman moved the wand around to several different positions trying to get the image in clearly.

"Crap!" Chase said when they could finally see what was causing the bubbles to pop.

"Foreman, are those…swabs…left in there?" Tom asked, not believing what he was seeing.

"Yeah," Foreman replied quietly. "I'm afraid they are."

"So on top of being vicious and deliberately maiming Greg's leg, they forgot swabs in there, too," Lydia said sounding angry, her voice quivering. "What idiotic bastards!"

"Worse than you think," House said tersely. "They didn't 'forget' them. What happens when swabs or sponges are left in a patient?"

"A chronic low-grade infection," Lydia answered after a moment.

"Right; low grade doesn't show up on any blood work, it never really makes you feel sick," noted House. "But it does…"

"Obstruct the healing of surrounding tissue by causing chronic inflammation," said Lydia. She was stunned; she turned her head away from House having promised herself she would not cry in front of him.

"Bingo. They did just what Tom said when he first looked at the old post-op scans; they made sure I'd never heal and would only get worse."

"Look," Foreman said nodding to the screen. "The scar tissue came together and organized itself through surrounding tissue."

"I'm willing to bet the 'surgeon,'" Taub said shaking his head. "Manipulated the nerve endings for maximum scarring. They probably have knots on the ends of them. An operation would be the only way to confirm that and get a true idea of the damage, but…this paints a grim picture." House continued to watch the monitors, not making eye contact with anyone.

"I had a pretty good idea of what they did, of how bad things were in there. I knew what I was feeling," House said almost mesmerized by the images. He became aware of the others staring at him; his mind clicked back into drive. "Beginning to get an idea of why I needed the amount of medicine I took?" he asked bitterly.

"That's why you kept needing more and more Vicodin and were willing to try anything for relief," Tom said. The true state of what House was living with was becoming more and more apparent to Tom. Having dealt with so much with his own leg amputations, he knew first-hand just how strong House had been for all these years. "Your body needed higher and higher levels because the degeneration of nerves and tissue just kept getting worse and worse. No matter how much you took, it was never enough."

"House, you could have used stronger painkillers," Wilson said. "You didn't need to suffer like that."

"I tried; you know what happened," he replied. "My mind produced enough mush to make breakfast for all the patients in this place; I was lucky I remembered how to drive from my place to here each day." He sat up and reached behind him for the blanket that he had used as an extra pillow. Using it to wipe the gel off from his leg, he hopped down from the table, and retrieved his cane from against the wall where Lydia had rested it

"You could have taken a leave of absence, found out what was up with your leg and then done something about it," Foreman said as House started to walk away.

"Really? Because it seemed to me, I only had two options; trust people to help me, which we all know how well that turned out," House said pointing down at his leg. "Or learn to live with the pain; whatever it did to me, whatever kind of person it made me into…and let the cases we dealt with occupy and distract my mind enough to keep me going. If I thought a viable opportunity came up to help in some way, I took a chance on it."

"Which is why you had the hallucination about the mice regenerating muscle with that experimental drug," Chase said. House nodded.

"And why I hallucinated trying it on myself."

"Your deepest wishes and fears are brought out in a medically induced coma," Thirteen said. "It's both amazing and frightening when you look back on it after you come out of it."

"_If _you come out of it," Chase noted.

"How the hell did you survive after Mayfield?" Tom asked. "There is no way ibuprofen was enough."

"A lot of really good booze," House replied.

"No, your liver is in good shape and your stomach isn't eaten up either."

"Prilosec became available over the counter; I ate them like candy," House said turning to leave again so as to avoid the discussion.

"You've been sucking it up, just dealing with intense, agonizing pain. How…" Tom asked. House closed his eyes. It was only his respect and like for Tom that allowed him to respond.

"I had some additional distractions in recent times," he said looking at Lydia. "That, and the changes you made in my meds; the Celebrex, Lyrica…they've made a big difference. I'm still in agonizing pain, every minute of every day, but I have better things to think about now."

"House, that kind of pain has caused heart attacks in some people," Thirteen said. "You were playing Russian roulette; you could have died."

"Obviously I didn't," he replied. "I'm leaving it there and moving on."

"Does moving on include actually considering surgery now?" Chase asked. "Not in the immediate future, but as an option? House, you can't leave your leg like this."

"I said I was moving forward, not planning on literally being a lamb to the slaughter," House said angrily.

"Well, if you already had an idea of what your leg was like, why confirm it with the ultrasound? Why do the test if you're not going to even consider doing something about it?" Foreman asked. House had reached his breaking point. He roughly grabbed Lydia by her left arm to move it out of his way; he thrust his hand into her sweat jacket pocket and pulled something out. House threw it onto the exam table as he looked at the floor.

"Meet you out by the front doors," he said to Lydia as he left to get changed back into his clothes. Wilson moved over to Lydia.

"Are you OK?" he whispered. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead just nodded her head and said nothing. Thirteen stepped over to the exam table; she picked up the item House threw on it. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

"What is it?" Foreman asked. She held the item up; it was the photoshopped picture Lydia made of herself, House, the kids, Blythe and Thomas.

"I told Greg I was bringing that with me in case he needed encouragement," Lydia said taking the picture from Thirteen. Wilson pointed to the far end of the room and motioned for everyone to follow him away from the changing area. "He told me he wants to do this for us," Lydia continued in a hushed tone. "But when we talked over the weekend, he said he wanted to do it for himself, too. He and Thomas opened the letters that Blythe left for them; the main focus of his letter was not the family history, but her begging him to get something done about his leg. She said…it was turning him into John House; not that he had ever been disrespectful or nasty to his mother, but she figured out from things he said, and times when she talked to James, just what he was going through. That's why she made the bequest to the Wounded Warriors project. She knew they've started to work with wounds of every nature, no matter what their origin, civilian or military. She hoped with how well known he was, that they would accept him into a study group that could help him." Lydia took a deep breath. "Now after seeing the proof right before him…of how brutal, how horribly he was attacked…he probably can't help but to wonder why? Did I really deserve this? Am I worth that little as a person?" They heard a door slam; Chase went into the changing area to make sure House had left.

"No one deserves what these bastards did to him," Tom said grimly. "This was the surgical equivalent of taking him out into a dark alley and beating him with a baseball bat. They already knew he was in a vulnerable position because of the infarction. They just took advantage of that."

"It's no wonder he became a drug addict," Taub said.

"NO! Damn it, you're doctors…you're several steps above me! You know the difference between a drug addict and someone with a drug dependency!" Tom looked around at everyone. "If an addict takes Vicodin or Oxycontin, and they have no pain, they'll fly higher than a kite! They'll be falling asleep in their food! That's what an opiate does to you if you're not taking them for true pain. And you'll keep on taking them to keep the opiate receptors in your brain filled; that's an addict. Now with the amount of Vicodin you guys watched House down on a daily basis, did it ever stop him from functioning, from doing his job?"

"No," Wilson said. "The only time he had problems with keeping a clear head is when he was in severe pain. And of course when he was hallucinating and went down the rabbit hole."

"Yeah, but at least he found a cute bunny at the end," Tom said pointing to Lydia. Everyone laughed as she twitched her nose like a rabbit.

"Seriously, guys; Vicodin, no matter how strong the dose, would never get rid of pain caused by that," Tom said pointing at the image of House's leg on the screen. "But it did lessen the pain enough to manage to deal with it; he became dependent on the drug to give him relief. Lydia…you take Flonase and Claratin, right? What would happen if you didn't take it for several days?"

"I would…become badly congested and have a massive sinus headache," she replied.

"Right, so you are dependent on the pills and spray to help you live a normal, pain-free life. Look," Tom said running his hand through his hair. "I know I'm preaching to the choir; I know you all know this stuff. But for so many years it was assumed House_ was_ an addict; _he_ knows he's not. And to have people around you who should know better…your colleagues…call you an addict, it cuts right through you. I went through it too when my legs were amputated in the car accident; I know where House is coming from."

"I hate to say it, I think Greg has been able to deal with the pain thanks to John House. One time, Greg built a model rocket and he set it up in his backyard to shoot it off. It was a windy day, so Greg had trouble lighting the fuse; when he finally did, the wind blew the rocket over. He miscalculated the time he had to set the rocket upright and it exploded in his hands. He wasn't badly hurt, just a lot of burn marks all over his upper body. Blythe wanted to take him to the doctor, but John refused. He was more upset that the shirt Greg was wearing got ruined than he was about how his son felt. He told Greg to deal with it, and not to embarrass him by telling anyone what had happened. That's what a real man does." Wilson saw that Lydia had tears in her eyes that quickly started to fall down her cheeks. He gave her a hug, trying to comfort her.

"He'll come around eventually, Lydia. You and the kids mean too much to him; and I know he wouldn't want to disappoint his mother, even if she's no longer here. She was…an absolutely amazing woman and…I think he got plenty of strength from her, too. I still can't believe the donation she made to the children's cancer unit here."

"She looked at you as a second son," Lydia said looking at Wilson. "I know she felt you protected Greg in so many ways." She continued to cry. "I'm sorry, but looking at those pictures of Greg…it reminds me of other…pictures…" Lydia looked over at Tom.

"Annie after the attack," he said. "Those…those were very hard to look at, too."

"And it's so similar in a way to Greg; Annie's pregnancy wouldn't be of any concern if those bastards didn't slice her lower abdomen open the way they did and cause so much damage. They did it just to be cruel. With Greg…those so-called doctors changed his life from the second they cut open his leg; he never was the same again." Lydia buried her head in Wilson's shoulder.

"Hey, come on; take it easy. Who knows why any of these things happened? They just did and we have to accept them," Wilson said as he rubbed Lydia's back. "All I know is I am finally marrying the love of my life and we're having a baby to boot. And I'm going to get to see my best friend in a Halloween costume taking two kids trick-or-treating. That…" Wilson said laughing. "That is something I never thought I'd see." Lydia started laughing, too, as did everyone else in the room.

"His idea of a costume as Ben's 'patient' is just to walk around with his cane, or so he says," said Lydia as she wiped her eyes. "But I know Greg's a bit more creative than that; he'll come up with something special."

"Don't mean to break this up," Foreman said. "But we've got to clean this up and make room for the paying customers."

"I need to stop in my office and grab the back-up on some recent payments that came in; I think the insurance companies more than short changed us on a few cases and I want to review them while I'm home to see about resubmitting the claims."

"Maybe have House look them over with you," Foreman suggested. "It's not exactly a case, but it will keep his mind occupied."

"Oh, give me a break," Tom said. "Lydia has much better ways of keeping House 'occupied.'"

"I swear, you're as bad as he is," Lydia said giving her friend a playful swat. Tom gave Lydia a kiss on top of her head.

"Take it easy, kid. I have to go do an evaluation on a new patient. If you need anything, call me. Take care, all! See you tomorrow night!"

"Lydia, are sure it's OK that we still come to the party tomorrow night?" Chase asked. "I have a feeling that House is still going to be in a bit of a snit after we pushed the subject of an operation a little too much."

"Actually, the worse thing you could do would be not to come; I think he would feel abandoned," Lydia said. The team looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

"We'll be there," Foreman said.

"Thank you," Lydia said coming over to give him a hug. "Thank you for doing the test for Greg."

"I'm sorry that his worst fears were realized. He…" Foreman hesitated. "He's pulled some really out of line stunts in the past, did and said thing that were beyond cringe worthy. Then again, if I had to deal with what he's got going on…I probably wouldn't even get out of bed in the morning."

"Face it; we've all got stories about House that are less than thrilling, but I don't think any of us could handle pain like that on a day to day basis," Taub said. "Not without going a little crazy."

"House's specialty is going a little crazy," Chase said. "Well…a lot crazy." Lydia laughed.

"Thank you all again," she said hugging Taub, Chase and Thirteen. "I'll see you around here tomorrow morning." She turned and looked at Wilson.

"I'm going to take the elevator up with you," Wilson said. "I want to talk to him." Lydia nodded and they headed out and down the hall to the elevator.

"Lydia!" She turned to see Thirteen running down the hall toward them.

"I forgot to mention that I'm going into New York City tomorrow with Slick. We'll be back in plenty of time for the party, but I wanted to know what we could bring."

"Slick already said he was bringing some beer, and Greg picked some up yesterday, so we're good there. Tom and Marianne have sodas, cider and other drinks that are kid appropriate. Annie and I have the food covered; and the kids are helping me finish the graveyard cake tonight." Thirteen shook her head.

"A graveyard cake? You are so freakin' creative it's amazing!" she said laughing. "Well, I know we'll be near Chelsea Market and they have a great wine vault. I'll pick up a bottle or two."

"So…you and Slick are going into Manhattan together," Wilson said with a suspicious tone in his voice. Lydia had a curious look in her eyes as she turned to Thirteen.

"OMG! No wonder you two can put up with House; you're as bad as he is!" Thirteen rolled her eyes. "OK, Slick is going to let everyone in on what the deal is tomorrow at the party. It's the first time all of us have been together since things developed…other than Blythe's funeral. So be patient and you'll find out what's going on."

"Maybe I should tell Greg what you just said; it'll drive him crazy and keep his mind busy trying to figure it out," Lydia said.

"Nah," Wilson replied. "He's already most of the way there." Lydia laughed.

"Well, I want to get the things I need out of my office and go check on him. Slick stopped by yesterday and I'm pretty sure Greg hit him up for a few cigarettes; he's probably finished them all by now."

"Can't say that I'd blame him," Thirteen replied. "See you tomorrow night." Thirteen turned back to radiology while Lydia and Wilson headed to the elevators. When they reached them, Wilson let out a deep sigh as he pushed the call button.

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked.

"Seeing real pictures of the damage done to House's leg just rattled the hell out of me. And thinking about Annie on top of it…don't," Wilson said seeing Lydia was about to say something. "Don't apologize. You were right to make the comparison between the two of them. I'm…just nervous about Annie right now; we actually wound up calling the obstetrician and going over to his office last night."

"Why? What's going on?" The elevator car arrived; Lydia and Wilson stepped into it.

"As it turns out nothing's wrong, really," Wilson said signaling for the main lobby. "It's just that she's been getting so much back pain, and then two days ago….she started getting morning sickness again after it had stopped for almost a month. The thing that sent us running for the doctor was she was having a fluttering feeling across her stomach. It's way too early to feel the baby moving and it'd be dangerous if it was Braxton-Hicks contractions…"

"So what did the doctor say?" Lydia said cutting Wilson off. She wanted to hear what was going on with her best friend. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out to the lobby.

"He said the back injuries she received in the attack years ago may be rearing their ugly heads. What happened during the mugging…she wasn't thrown to the ground, but she went down hard enough. Now put the pregnancy on top of it…"

"I'm guessing the morning sickness is just the continuation of new hormones blossoming in her body; some women are nauseous their entire pregnancy," noted Lydia making a face.

"Yeah, that's what the doc said. And the fluttering…was probably just a nerve twitching," Wilson said laughing. "I felt foolish rushing over there like that…I'm a doctor for God's sake!"

"But better to be safe than sorry," Lydia said feeling relieved as they walked forward into the lobby proper. "I'm going to get the files I need; Greg's standing over by the front window." Wilson followed Lydia's gaze and saw House leaning on the wall, watching the comings and goings in the reception area.

"I'm surprised he's not sitting down somewhere considering what his leg must feel like right now," Wilson said.

"He probably wants to stay on his feet so he can make a quick exit if he needs to. I'll meet you over there," she said as she headed to her office. Wilson stared at House for a moment then reluctantly started to make his way over to him. The first few words would be the hardest.

"Hey…how are you doing?" Wilson asked as he came and stood in front of his friend. House stared off just to Wilson's left.

"No worse than usual," House answered in a flat voice.

"In other words you feel like absolute crap. I would too if someone messed with my hip the way your leg was messed with." House finally made eye contact with his friend.

"My leg feels like its usual miserable self; what hurts right now is my mind. It's one thing to have low expectations for an event; it's another to have those expectations fulfilled." House looked down at the floor. "What we saw is about what I imagined, but…I hoped for once that I was wrong." House's expression showed a defeated attitude that he never showed anyone with the exception of Wilson and Lydia on rare occasions. But now here he was wearing his physical, mental and emotional pain on his sleeve; the examination of his leg knocked House back on his ass. It broke Wilson's heart to see his friend this way.

"I know…you don't want to talk right now about any of this, but when you do…just remember there's some wings and pizza with our names on it over at Gino's." Wilson swore that for the briefest moment the corners of House's mouth turned upward.

"I'll keep that in mind," House said looking to his right. He saw Lydia talking to a guy in a dark suit; House recognized him as one of the board members.

"How upset is Lydia?" he asked Wilson.

"Well, she was floored like the rest of us when we saw…"

"No, you moron!" House said in an annoyed voice. "How upset is she about the way I grabbed her arm?"

"Oh…oh that." Wilson shrugged. "She didn't say anything. I think she was…startled like the rest of us; but no…she made no comment." House nodded as Lydia walked over to them.

"OK, I'm all set; I've got what I need to see how to get some more money for the hospital," she said patting her messenger bag.

"I think after we get this check and do lunch with the Prestons, I'm going to bring some work home, too. I want to keep an eye on Annie. Oh, almost forgot to show you these; they're from last night." Wilson started to fiddle with his phone; he now turned it around to reveal a sonogram image.

"Look at that cutie!" Lydia squealed. "It's sucking its thumb already!"

"Songbird wasn't due for a doctor's appointment for a couple of weeks; why were you there last night?" Wilson filled House in about the concerns for Annie and the baby, but reassured him that everything was OK with them both.

"Why didn't you say something?" House asked as he looked at the image and managed a faint smile.

"I knew the test was on your mind; I didn't want to burden you with anything else," Wilson said as he took his phone back.

"Do us a favor; anytime an issue arises that concerns little Wilannie Junior…let us know. I'm not in the mood for any surprises." House looked away. "And I see the kid is like its dad; sucking up already."

"You could say that the little one is cute," Lydia reprimanded.

"No I can't; the quality of cuteness can't be determined until after it's born. And if it looks like Wilson…" The two friends locked eyes; just the fact that House was busting his chops let Wilson know his friend was going to be OK.

"I've got to get going; I want to try and get some work done before this meeting." Wilson gave Lydia a hug, then turned to House. "See you at home later." He held his hand up for a fist pump which House returned.

"Thanks for holding my hand today," House yelled out across the lobby as his friend walked away. Wilson stopped, paused for a moment, and then looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"Any time, House."


	2. Chapter 2

"Ghosts of the Past"

Chapter Two – "Noises in the Attic"

By: purpleu

House pushed the button on the clicker for the garage door; it slowly began its descent down to close. He stood there for a moment, looking at the door that led to the house. He and Lydia had stopped at Dunkin' Donuts on the way home after the test and grabbed something to eat. If it weren't for the fact that he was so hungry, he'd consider hiding out in the garage for a while. The ride home was fairly quiet with Lydia doing most of the talking, and House just grunting in response. She didn't bring up his leg or the ultrasound. Instead, she commented on the work she brought home, her relief that Annie and the baby were OK, and she asked him what he wanted to eat. He was fine with the topics she brought up; he didn't want to discuss anything about his leg right now. But if he were honest, House also knew he couldn't avoid the subject for too long. She was a part of his life, and would be more than helpful in getting him through tough times in the future. He realized there were things she didn't understand from a medical point of view, and that just like everyone else she had no idea of the extent of his everyday pain. She deserved answers; House would have to brace himself to provide them.

He headed inside the house and stopped when he got to the bottom of the first set of stairs that led from the hall outside of Annie's apartment to the foyer by the front door. House let out a weary sigh. Stairs were always his enemy, and at the moment all the more so. There was no way to avoid them, so House began the long climb up. He and Lydia had talked about the plans for the new house a little bit in the past few days, and they were both beginning to see that they really had to keep the stairs to an absolute minimum. House still insisted, however, on having some space between their sleeping quarters and the kids' bedrooms. He didn't want it to be that they had to keep making arrangements for the kids to be out of the house each time they wanted to simply have some time alone. It's not that Lydia didn't warn him what it would mean to their lives with the little ones around; but a little spontaneity once in a while would be nice. Lydia heard House trudging up the stairs and called out to him.

"Hon, do you want to sit in the dining room or in the kitchen?"

"Kitchen's fine." House replied. He threw his jacket over the back of the couch and picking up his cane, made his way to the kitchen. He didn't usually use the cane in the house, just like he rarely used it in his apartment; but after the rigors his leg went through this morning, he felt like it was needed. As he entered the room, he saw Lydia's eyes fall on the cane; her expression didn't change, but he felt the pity oozing out of her pores. House pulled out a stool by the counter extension and sat down. It wouldn't be too long before he was going to need to elevate the leg.

"Here you go; one everything bagel with a 'schmear' of cream cheese," Lydia said putting a plate down in front of her boyfriend. "And here's your coffee." She retrieved her order from the main counter and came to sit on the stool opposite House. He looked at the food in front of his girlfriend.

"What did you get?"

"A pumpkin muffin and a pumpkin latte. They only have them for a limited time, so I like to get them while I can," Lydia answered trying to sound cheerful. "I picked up a bag of the coffee so I can make it here at home; and I got two cheddar bagels. The kids had tried them with Marianne the other day, and they've been bugging me to get them ever since. I thought it would be a good bedtime snack. And I got a box of Munchkins because I know you and the kids will make short work of them." House could tell Lydia was being overly chatty to tame the elephant that had taken up residence in the room. _Oh hell,_ House said to himself, _just get it over with._

"I'm sorry I grabbed your arm earlier," he said without looking at Lydia. "I was pissed at them all for not getting it; I haven't suddenly decided to let my leg get hacked apart again. It's a baby step," House said taking a breath. "To maybe finding a way to make myself and the people around me less miserable; especially since they all seem to be flocking to me lately."

"I tried not to react when you took hold of my arm," Lydia said after a moment. "But I was already upset from the things that I learned about your leg, and looking at the pictures; your grabbing me just completely caught me off guard." She stared down at her muffin, and slowly peeled the paper wrapper off to keep from looking at House.

"I was so blinded by anger that it wasn't until I sat down in the changing area and thought about the look in your eyes that I realized what you were thinking," House said closing his eyes. "Fraulein, you know I'd never hurt you." Lydia looked up at her boyfriend.

"Oh my God, Greg," she said leaving her stool and coming over to him. "Of course I know that. Despite the rough way you handle things and people sometimes…to me you've always been the most gentle man I've ever known." Lydia reached up and stroked his cheek, then moved forward to hug him.

"That's because the guy before me was a jackass who didn't appreciate what he had," House said returning Lydia's hug.

"And you don't deserve to be considered in the same thought as him," Lydia said grabbing a napkin from the counter and dabbing at her eyes. "Not for one second. I've seen you terribly angry before this when dealing with a case, but you've never directed it toward the kids or me. We've gotten upset or annoyed with each other, but we've always talked things out." She shook her head. "There's never been any anger between us."

"You make that easy," House said taking as sip of coffee as Lydia brought her stool around the end of the counter and closer to him. "You keep the tissue manufacturers of the world in business," he said indicating her napkin. "But you manage to keep a cool head and think things through logically and reasonably even while the water faucets are going. That takes a certain talent."

"It takes common sense," Lydia replied breaking off a piece of her muffin. "I don't see anything to be gained by foot stomping and screeching irrationally. The only thing I find hard is to hold back my tears sometimes…"

"Most of the time," House corrected. Lydia made a face as she leaned over to House with the piece of muffin in between her fingers.

"Open wide," she said holding the morsel up in front of him. He smiled as he parted his lips just enough for her to place the piece of muffin in his mouth; he quickly closed his lips on her fingers as she pulled them back.

"Why did you do that?" House asked as he chewed the treat.

"Because I know you think feeding food to each other is very sexy and it would make you smile." Lydia reached over for his hand. "And right now I think you need something to improve your mood." House nodded.

"That's for sure" he said dropping his head down; there was the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth. "You always amaze me with how well you 'get' me. You knew I was going to snag a piece of muffin no matter what, but you also knew I'd like nibbling on your digits even more."

"I pay attention to the little stuff," said Lydia as she sipped her latte.

"The little stuff adds up to big stuff after a while," House said quietly looking over his shoulder out onto the deck. Lydia watched the deep furrows form in House's brow; it was the look he always took on when he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Since there was more than one issue for him to consider right now, she thought it best to find out which one had his attention at the moment.

"Maybe you'll feel better if you said what you're thinking out loud," his girlfriend offered.

"I'll never feel better about it," House said turning back to Lydia. "I'm not looking to forgive anything or anyone right now; I'm trying to understand it. I'm trying to get a handle on why Stacy didn't follow my instructions, disregarded my wishes. I want to say that it was…an act of desperation; like you've told me…it was done out of love." House shook his head and his voice became harsher. "I can't see it that way. If you had been my girlfriend, this," he said as he started to rub his leg. "Never would have happened." House looked over and saw Lydia struggling to say something. "You know I'm right."

"I don't think that I can sit here and tell you what I would or would not have done in the moment," Lydia said choosing her words carefully. "But I'd like to think that ultimately I would do as you asked. I want to believe that you wouldn't take the chance of doing anything to endanger our life together." House looked away and nodded.

"I wouldn't; and I wasn't trying to screw up the life I had with Stacy, although ultimately I did." House slammed his fist on the counter. "I can figure out Cuddy's motivation, but not Stacy's. It's going to keep bothering the hell out of me." Lydia was puzzled.

"Motivation to disregard your wishes?" she asked. "I don't…"

"When you first moved back here, and we were going over ancient history, I told you I never cheated on Stacy until things had gotten bad; that's true, but there was…an incident…that I was very uncomfortable about," House said as he looked at the floor. "I had worked late one night on a tough case, had a few drinks, and as screwed-up as it sounds, someone tried to take advantage of me."

"Cuddy," Lydia said in almost a whisper. House nodded. "Was this before or after the infarction?"

"Before. I had a patient, a kid…he was dying. Won't go into the details of the case; they're not important," House began. "He wasn't responding to any of the 'normal' treatments, so I wanted to try a more radical approach. As usual, Cuddy sprouted feathers and was too chicken to give it a try; too risky for the hospital. We had a battle outside the kid's room, from which I emerged victorious." House took a sip of his coffee. "Not that Cuddy gave in; I went behind her back, and did the treatment anyway. I sent the team home and I kept watch over things. Slowly, the kid started to respond. Cuddy hung around once she found out I bested her, and was about to try and sentence me to a thousand clinic hours when the parents came out of the kid's room gushing praise for me and thanking Cuddy for letting me take the action that ultimately saved their kid's life." House smirked. "The look on her face was priceless when I let her get away with accepting the credit for what I had done on my own." House rose from his stool and went over to the sliding door out to the deck. "At that point, I was exhausted; before he left, I had Wilson give me the keys to his office so I could catch some zzz's on his couch. I just sat down when my phone rang; it was Cuddy asking where I was. The next thing I know she's standing at Wilson's door, holding a bottle of Macallan's; she called it a peace offering. She's got two cups, not so subtly hinting that she wanted to share. I wasn't going to drink the whole thing myself, and I wasn't driving since I already had told Stacy I wasn't coming home that night." Letting out a sigh, House pinched the bridge of his nose. "One glass led to another…the next thing I know I'm flat on my back on Wilson's sofa with Cuddy on top of me," he said ruefully. "I kept my head about me enough to push her off and remind her I wasn't available."

"She knew you had a girlfriend," Lydia said. "And yet…"

"Yeah, she knew. Cuddy was always civil to Stacy, but not much more; on more than one occasion Stacy expressed the opinion that Cuddy didn't like her," House said. "That's why when she came back here with Mark the Magnificent in tow, Stacy was shocked that Cuddy asked her to do some work for the hospital. I told Cuddy I was OK with it, but looking back, I swear she did it to torture me."

"How…how did Stacy react when you told her what happened?" House looked down and away from his girlfriend.

"I never told her; I didn't know what to say," he said returning to his stool by the counter. "She wouldn't have been happy that I was drinking on the job, although technically it was after hours. I didn't want to deal with the aftermath if she decided to confront Cuddy; or take the chance that Cuddy would blow it up into something it wasn't." House stretched his legs out in front of him. "Judging by Cuddy's reaction when I talked to her the next day, told her it was a mistake and that I would appreciate her keeping quiet about it…I think she wanted a little more than swapping spit." House began to intensely rub his leg. "She accused me of using her again; first, the one night stand back in college when I never said goodbye, and then this thing. I had to remind her she was the aggressor both times, a fact she didn't take too kindly."

"Greg, to be honest, I wouldn't be too happy with you if you bedded me one night, then just disappeared," Lydia said.

"That's almost what happened with us," House said closing his eyes in pain as he grabbed his leg." Only with the roles reversed."

"Almost only counts in horse shoes, hand grenades, and nuclear weapons," Lydia countered. "Look, obviously you always had a thing for her," Lydia began. "Whether you were flattered by her attention or you were genuinely attracted to her because she was a smart and good doctor, I don't know. But she sat in on one of your classes just to be around you; that could be construed as stalking."

"Who said she was a good doctor?" House said with a smirk. "I said with the course load she had she was ambitious; ambition doesn't necessarily equal ability. She was adequate." House started to run his finger along the edge of his coffee cup. "I don't know what it was with the two of us; it's one of those things that I won't ever be able to label…and that will drive me crazy." Lydia and House were both silent for a moment; she chewing a bite of her muffin, he still obsessing over that which he couldn't know.

"Honestly, Hon…I don't understand it either," Lydia said after taking a sip of her drink. "Anytime you got hurt…whether you got shot, or you stupidly stuck a piece of metal into an electric socket or whatever crazy thing you did, she was there at your bedside seemingly concerned about you. Yet, she invites you for Thanksgiving dinner and when you get there, not only is she gone, she has the…maid or house sitter or whatever the hell the person was…offer you a turkey sandwich!" Lydia tossed her napkin down. "I'm sorry, but that is unbelievably cruel."

"I badgered her into inviting me," House said standing up. He started to pace back and forth through the kitchen. "That was her way of saying I shouldn't have done it."

"I don't care what you did," Lydia said turning to watch her boyfriend wander around. "What she did was wrong. You don't do that to someone you care about." Lydia's voice was becoming more intense as she tried to defend House against his own actions. He slowly walked over to the counter extension where his girlfriend sat. He placed his hands on the granite, leaned forward onto his arms, and stared straight ahead, averting Lydia's eyes.

"I heard it's been said that the line between love and hate is unperceptively thin," House said in a quiet, flat voice. He said nothing else; he simply continued to stare off into nothingness. Lydia watched him, waiting for him to say something else…when suddenly the point of his statement became painfully clear.

"Oh, God…Greg…no. No, you are not implying that Cuddy let those butchers get at you as revenge over a rejection? That's…"

"Cuddy had my report and Wilson's weeks before; she didn't suspend them, she never told the Medical Review Board or the Board of Directors about them. Their employment files are missing from the hospital's records," House said dropping his head down.

"Was she showing signs of being unstable, mentally or emotionally, that she'd be capable of such a thing?" Lydia was trying to process the implication of what House was telling her.

"I don't know," he said sounding frustrated. "It comes down to what Wilson was saying to me when I came home after the crane collapse; no one really knew Cuddy. I could never figure out how her mind worked. Wilson's supposition was that she was an enigma to me, a mystery I couldn't solve. That's why I was drawn to her, kept coming back no matter what happened." House straightened up, and slowly let his hands glide randomly over the counter; Lydia jumped when he slapped both hands. She saw that his expression became intensely dark. "I made a mistake…this shouldn't be the way I have to pay for it," he said as he reached down and rubbed his leg. Lydia realized she was going to have to direct the conversation; she had been rolling around several thoughts in her head and maybe some of them could soothe and calm House down.

"Greg, come back and sit down; I want to ask you a couple of things." Lydia saw that House wasn't moving, and his hands were curling up into fists. "Please, Hon?" He finally looked up at his girlfriend; seeing into Lydia's eyes always brought out good things in him, and right now they were easing the tension and anger he felt. Those feelings were one of the reasons he never wanted to discuss his leg and how it happened with anyone; but leave it to Fraulein to get through to him. He slowly pushed away from the counter and walked back around to his seat. He picked up his coffee and took a drink; Lydia took a deep breath before she began to speak. "The other night when you had been drinking, you said that Stacy and Cuddy worked together to hurt you. I'm going to take a guess…and say that you thought Cuddy told Stacy about your close encounter." House put his cup down.

"Yeah, I considered that for about two minutes. Then I realized if Cuddy told her, Stacy would have confronted me," he said shaking his head. "Plus…Stacy wouldn't do that; not to me, not to anyone. She wasn't that kind of person."

"I was going to say to you…I obviously don't know Stacy, but you certainly have told me enough about her," started Lydia. "I couldn't imagine you loving a woman who had that much cruelty in her. I think in your quest for answers that you let your imagination run wild; mainly in an effort to make sure you were covering all possibilities." Lydia gave House a sideways glance. "That having been said…I don't believe Cuddy knowingly harmed you either."

"She's the one who presented the option to Stacy," House shot back. "She also knew what my wishes were."

"And I think she panicked. After all, if something happened to you, who would be around to comment constantly on her boobs and ass?" House did a double take; it wasn't that Lydia never used those words, but it was unlike her to be as blunt as he could be.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one to pick up on her assets," House said after taking a bite if his bagel. "With the way she dressed, it was a little hard not to notice." Lydia smiled.

"I was being sarcastic," she said shaking her head. "Hon, what I'm trying to say is that while the line between love and hate can be incredibly thin, I believe that she was more frustrated than anything else. I think Cuddy was incapable of telling you how she felt; and you weren't exactly straightforward with her either, which certainly didn't help. You two beat around the bush in this…mating dance…but never connected on a deep level. She sends you on a wild goose chase for Thanksgiving dinner, you tell her she going to be a lousy mother…you were like two little kids with a crush on each other, but didn't want to come out and say it. So you dip her pigtails into the inkwell, and she lets the air out of your bicycle tires. I think you either knew she cared, or wanted to believe she did…and that's why when you were hallucinating after the crane collapse, the first thing you imagine her doing is kissing your scar; to you, she was saying she was sorry." Lydia cleared her throat and took a drink of her latte. "I believe that she was overwhelmed by you…this strong, athletic man she lusted after…lying in a hospital bed in such a fragile condition. I think she presented the alternative treatment to Stacy in an attempt to help you, and then those wretched, horrible doctors snuck in and hurt you. I don't know what Cuddy saw that made her think going back into the O.R. was a good idea for you; I certainly don't know how she could have misread the films of the scans."

"I don't think she did," House said. "When I gave Tom my medical chart, and he started digging into things, I finally decided to take a look at it myself; the correct films…the ones that Cuddy probably looked at and used to advise Stacy, were in there. So were a bunch of other reports; blood work, x-rays, CT scans, ultrasounds…and all of them weren't mine." House looked up at Lydia. "They were bundled all together and attached was a note; 'We didn't kill you, but you're going to wish we did.' Tom has a friend in the police department who tried to lift prints from it; but other than mine, which they already had on file," House said with a wry smile. "And Tom's, everything else was too smudged. They couldn't even get a partial." Lydia tried her best to hold back tears; but the viciousness of the note was more than she could handle. She quickly stood up and threw her arms around her boyfriend, crying as she did.

"I'm sorry; the last thing you need right now is a blubbering idiot," Lydia said as she pushed back away from House after a minute. He didn't seem to mind her outburst; he brought his arms up around her and appeared to be resisting letting her move away. Lydia grabbed a napkin and began wiping her eyes. "All you were trying to do is prevent a group of…incompetent, barbaric bastards…from hurting anyone else." She shook her head. "I know this is stupid for me to say, but it's not fair."

"Don't start me on the concept of life not being fair. I've solved medical cases that were impossible, saved the lives of people who should have died; yet I can't figure out for sure how the minds of a woman I've known for years and a woman I lived with for five years worked." House rested his elbow on the counter and brought his hand up to his forehead. "See why I think people and emotions suck?" Lydia took a deep breath; she was trying to steel herself up for what she wanted and needed to say to her boyfriend. It was time to call House's methods out.

"Greg, you are a man who holds logic and reason in the highest regard; so tell me…how can you be so illogical as to continue to obsess over a question that you can never have the answer to? And you know you'll never be able to answer it. Cuddy is in a vegetative state; she cannot ever communicate with you again. And I'm quite sure that if you knocked on Stacy's door, she wouldn't invite you in, put a pot of coffee on and say, 'Have a seat…let's talk.' You two had the chance to talk things out several years ago; if you got no answers then, you're not going to get any now." House was taken aback by the intensity with which Lydia spoke. It had exactly her desired effect; he was listening, not dismissing her words because he had already made up his mind. "It's not surprising that Tom's discovery of what went on years ago has stirred all these feeling up again. But they are haunting your waking and sleeping hours." House lifted his eyes to meet Lydia's.

"I wasn't aware of the fact that I made it a topic of conversation at the dinner table," he said sarcastically. Lydia closed her eyes.

"You don't realize the number of times I've walked over when you've been on your laptop, or on your computer at work and you're searching for ways to stimulate speech in a person with a brain injury." House looked away. "You've always tossed and turned in bed because your leg never lets you get comfortable…but Hon, you've been violently thrashing around. To the point you fell out of bed the other night!" Lydia's voice cracked with emotion, but she managed to hold it together.

"Sorry I'm ruining your sleep," House said, still not making eye contact with his girlfriend. Lydia stepped closer to House and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Stop trying to deflect!" she said sternly. "You're also talking…crying out in your sleep, actually. You've been yelling out 'Why?' and 'I'm not going back on the table.'" Lydia put her head down. "And…'You promised me, damn it. You said you loved me.'" House raised his head and looked at Lydia, his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"I had no idea I was doing that," he said quietly. "I…" He suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Lydia; he wasn't crying, but when he moved back after a moment, she could see moisture from tears pooling under his eyes.

"Greg, ever since Tom revealed the contents of the file, you've been obsessing over it. The only distractions you had, sadly, were the shooting and your mother's death. I'm surprised you were able to think about building a house or a trip for the two of us." House shook his head.

"I may have a lot of things crashing around in my brain, but you're always included in the mix." He looked at her and managed the barest of smiles. "So are the rug rats. I've been trying to work all the angles I could think of with this; it never occurred to me that I was going against all the principles of clear and rational thinking that I always adhere to and believe in. To keep going over and over things…it's a road to nowhere."

"You do know some things; you know who was involved, and you know what happened. The when and the where are also facts. I think you should take the knowledge you gained from the ultrasound today and figure out what your next move is. I'm assuming you're going to need to have an operation to get those swabs out, but…"

"If I want to do the whole nine yards, I'm going to need three operations," House said grimly. "Well, two and a half." Lydia's eyes opened wide in shock. "There's a lot to explain…but right now, I've got to put my leg up." He slowly rose from the stool and reached out for Lydia. He pulled her toward him in a tight embrace. "This isn't going to be easy…as a matter of fact, it's going to be the most hellacious thing I've ever gone through. Worse than rehab." House pulled back so he could look at his girlfriend. "If after you hear all the gory details, you decide you…"

"Excuse me, Dr. House…but are you trying to tell me how I'm going to think or feel about the subject in advance?" Lydia asked with a slight teasing tone in her voice. "You should know by now you have a strong-willed Fraulein for a girlfriend." Despite his mood, House actually managed a chuckle.

"Yeah, I've figure that out by now." He leaned forward and gave Lydia a kiss. "I'll meet you in the bedroom." House turned, made his way to the hall, and then headed down to the bedroom. It was only after she was sure that he was out of earshot, that Lydia allowed herself to cry. Three operations? And as with all procedures, there was always going to be a chance that it wouldn't work; that things could be worse in fact. Lydia was very quickly realizing why House resisted any attempts to get him back into the O.R., especially without the kind of support he was going to need. Wilson was wonderful, and she knew he loved House like a brother; but Lydia also knew House was going to be pushed to the limits by this, and in turn, so would those closest to him. Everyone has their breaking point…_including me_…Lydia thought. Brushing any negativity aside, she gathered up their drinks and the food and headed into the bedroom. As she turned the corner from the hallway, the sight before her made her stop; House was standing by his side of the bed, naked from the waist down. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw his girlfriend standing there.

"The jeans and even my boxers are irritating the scar at the moment," he said. "I'm going to go commando and throw a pair of sweats on."

"Take your time," Lydia said with a smile as she placed House's coffee on his night stand. He gave her a look as she lingered in front of him for a moment.

"You know if I was in a better mood…and feeling better physically, you wouldn't still be standing there," he said with a gleam in his eye. "Then again the Tater Tots won't be home until three…plenty of time for me to feel better."

"Take your bagel, please, before I drop it," Lydia said laughing. "And by the way, the kids won't be home until six; soccer practice."

"Oh, I'll be feeling better long before then," said House as he placed his bagel next to his coffee. He sat down and pulled his sweats on while Lydia went around to her side of the bed.

"I think I'll throw on sweats, too; they'll be more comfortable to nap in," she said setting her food down on her bedside table.

"Nap?" House asked.

"Let's face it, Hon; neither one if us slept well last night," said Lydia. "I was hoping after we talked, we could get a little rest," she said pulling off her jeans. "And re-charge out batteries for whatever we want to do later." Lydia went to the closet and took out two hangers; she grabbed House's jeans as well as hers and hung them up. She felt her boyfriend's eyes follow her as she moved around, and finally got her sweats on.

"If you want I'll give you a hand looking over those insurance rejects later; that way you can finish the graveyard cake while I do that and give us some extra alone time," House said as he sat down on the bed.

"Sounds good to me," Lydia said joining him. "I have notes on everything attached to the files; I know I just need to take things a few steps further. I'm just not sure in what direction."

"I can play compass, no problem," House said chewing on his bagel. There was an awkward quiet while the two of them ate some more of their food.

"I'm…ready to listen anytime you're ready to talk," Lydia finally said looking at House. He nodded, swallowed hard, and began.

"First things first; if I say anything that you don't understand, stop me right away. It's better to handle questions as they come up," Lydia nodded. "It's all going to start with the cleaning out of the wound." House frowned as he looked down. "Taub isn't just about bigger boobs and tighter tushes; he's one of the best reconstructive surgeons going. He'd still be doing it if he could've exhibited a little self-control and kept his fly zipped. There's ultimately going to be four surgeons involved; Taub, a vascular surgeon, Chase to assist, and Foreman to oversee nerve surgery issues." House looked over at Lydia; she had a mile-wide grin on her face. "What?"

"I so happy you're trusting them to do this for you," she said. "You know your team didn't walk into the ultrasound out of morbid curiosity this morning. They're concerned about you."

"I don't give a damn what their reasons were," House said tersely. "I just want them to help me fix my leg and have it done right." Lydia didn't want to press the issue, so she moved on.

"Who would you use for your vascular surgeon? Ratner?" she asked, referring to the surgeon who repaired Wilson's femoral artery.

"No. Too much tension with him. Chase introduced me to a new guy that's coming on staff in a few weeks. His name is Halpern, and we've managed to steal him away from NYU Medical Center. Ratner's talking about leaving to form his own practice in vascular and thoracic surgery, so rather than being caught short, the hospital's bringing in this guy as a preemptive strike. Chase seemed to think he's good and from what I've read about him, he's earned his reputation. Of course I'll want to sit down, have him look everything over and make sure we're on the same page with everything."

"He sounds like a promising candidate to do the work," Lydia said. House nodded as he reached over for his coffee.

"So, no repair work is done at first; everything is about making the area as clear of debris as possible. The swabs come out, any necrotic or damaged tissue is removed. Then a special adapted black sponge, which helps promote healing from within, is placed into the wound; a wound vac will be hooked up. Between the sponge and the vac, they'll continue to clear and stimulate the tissue that's left. The sponge will have to be changed out every two to three days in an O.R." House took a drink of his coffee, then replaced it on his night stand. "Even though the infection is low grade, it still has to be treated, plus I'll be a post-op patient. IV antibiotics will be given; when my WBC and RBC return to levels that Taub and I are OK with, we move on to stage two." House looked over at Lydia. "Sound like fun yet?" Lydia knew healing House's leg wasn't going to be an easy proposition. She reminded herself that if she went to medical school and became a doctor, she'd be dealing with this and worse. _It's one thing if_ _it's someone you just met; it quite another if it's the man you love_, she thought.

"So will you have to stay in the hospital until your blood chemistries are normal? Or can you come home and have a visiting nurse?" House winced and looked away from Lydia.

"Fraulein, once they open up my leg…I can't come back here," he said quietly. "I won't be able to walk, never mind climb stairs. This…is not going to impact just you and me; it's going to effect the kids' lives, too." He reached over for her hand. "After the next two operations, I'd begin therapy. That's when Blood, Sweat and Tears is no longer just one of Songbird's favorite groups from the sixties. If the operations work, and I do intensive therapy with Tom…nine months to a year after I start things…" House paused for a minute to keep his composure. "I can run on the sidelines at the kids' soccer games without embarrassing them, and…carry you into the bedroom without being afraid of dropping you and ruining the mood." Lydia couldn't help the tears trickling down her cheeks any more than House could help his own.

"Greg, this isn't about me or the kids. You've suffered for years…"

"It has everything to do with you and the kids!" House said, his voice raising in volume. "Because of you three, I've seen and felt what it's like to actually be part of the living, not just sitting alone in an apartment drinking and drugging myself into a stupor." House shook his head. "You've removed me so far from that hell…shown me that I am capable of being loved. I'm a greedy son-of-a-bitch; I want more of it, and I'm willing to take whatever chances I have to so I can get it." He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes. Lydia looked at him; she was happy that she had something to do with his determination to deal head on with his leg, but still nervous about all the obstacles in the way.

"So, how long after you start on the antibiotic and wound vac will you be ready to move on to stage two?" House turned his head toward his girlfriend. He was surprised at how quickly she was willing to keep the discussion going.

"It can take anywhere from seven to ten days. Then the real fun begins." House readjusted his position more onto his left hip, and bent his right leg up. "Rather than two more operations, it's really number two, parts A and B, assuming I choose that path. Taub, Halpern, Chase and Foreman will all be in the O.R. with me; the wound vac will have been removed, the black sponge taken out. Now begins 'This Old House' for realz. I'd be opting to get a muscle/skin flap transplant. They'd take it from a donor site, and try to reattach it on my thigh, replacing some of the lost muscle and give me decent regular skin instead of scar tissue. They'll be trying to reconnect everything…nerves, veins, arteries…" House saw that Lydia looked like she wanted to ask a question. "Come on…tell Dr. Greg what's on your mind."

"Taub spoke of 'knots' on the nerve endings," she said slowly, still thinking things over. "Those knots form on their own after a nerve is just chopped rather than properly cut, correct?" House didn't respond right away.

"Keep going, I'll tell you if you're wrong," he said.

"Those are called neuroms; Taub's going to have to cut them off before he can begin to reconnect nerve endings. But, there's a chance that a match may not be found for each nerve."

"Which is why Foreman's going to oversee the reattachment of the nerves; he'll make sure the proper playmates are found. The loners, those without a buddy, are going to play ostrich." Lydia looked confused; House let her think it over. He knew she could work it out.

"They're going to have to bury the stray nerve endings into deep muscle tissue," she said, not looking at all pleased. "That means you'll lose feeling in the areas that those nerves are associated with."

"Yep. It'll probably be contained between the scar and my knee," he said pointing to his leg. "It's only on the surface; it won't affect my mobility. If we ever decide to move up to the frozen tundra of the north, therefore needing heavy duty electric blankets, I'll have to be careful because I'll have no decent sensation there. But I'll be very aware of keeping an eye on the skin. The last thing I'd need would be a burn." House looked at Lydia. "You get A+ on the quiz."

"Thanks," she said looking uncomfortable. "The idea of a transplant…is that the only option you have to able to keep walking?"

"It's what would make me even better than I am now, if it works out well. Without it…there might not be enough muscle left to get my leg back to working at the level I'm currently at…or even keeping me on both feet at all," House said sighing. Lydia did a double-take, not sure she heard him correctly. House said nothing, sat with his hands folded, and a blank expression on his face.

"So you're trying to tell me that this is a complete gamble, even under the best possible circumstances. Knowing you, that fits your usual approach to things." Lydia shook her head. "So which area were you considering to be a donor candidate?" Her boyfriend again sat by silently. "Greg…please…please don't make me guess," Lydia pleaded.

"You're not going to guess; the proper transplantee can be figured out quite logically. Plus, I like seeing you work it through, mostly because I know you can." Lydia rolled her eyes and began to look over House's form as he lay on the bed. "Say it out loud if it helps," House said trying to encourage his girlfriend.

"OK…obviously the other leg isn't an option," she began. "The gluteus maximus shouldn't be considered…"

"Knowing you, you'd never let them touch my butt," House said.

"I would if I had to," Lydia said continuing to scan House's body with her eyes. "But I wouldn't be happy about it. Lean forward, please." House did as she asked. Lydia started with the small of his back, and ran her hand slowly upward to his right shoulder; she stopped when she got near the area of the shoulder blade.

"Large latissimus dorsi!" she yelled out rolling onto her knees, and looking at House with a big smile. He was always amused at how proud she was of herself when she got it right; of course, that was most of the time.

"Left or right?" he asked keeping a straight face.

"Left; when you're rehabbing, you'll need the strength on the right side to lean on things until you build up the new muscle in your leg." Lydia looked at House anxiously. "Well…am I right?"

"With everything except 'until you build up the new muscle in your leg.'" House straightened out his leg and turned to his girlfriend. "It's like you said before, this whole thing is a crap shoot. The transplant could possibly not take, even though I'm self-donating. Usually, you don't do free transplants if you can help it; you keep the initial blood supply. That's not an option here; I'm not a contortionist. They may have to go back in and take the transplant out. Rehabbing my back where the donor tissue will come from may not go well…" House shook his head. "All sorts of things could go wrong."

"Hon, what would happened if you stopped short of the transplant?" Lydia asked settling back into a sitting position. "Let them clean it out and repair it, and leave it at that if there's enough muscle to provide support."

"The problem with that is we won't know just how much damage those damn swabs did to the remaining muscle left in there before we finish the first surgery. So we have to plan ahead; we need to gather a transplant team early enough to get the best shot at doing it right. Whatever happens, unless the damage is minor, I'm going for the transplant. I'll also want to oversee the first surgery so they don't chop off too much or too little."

"You'll be under anesthesia; it's a little hard to talk when you're out like a light," Lydia pointed out. House gazed up at the ceiling.

"You can still talk if you're using an epidural." Lydia almost choked on the drink she had taken of her latte.

"Greg, you're crazy! You're going to have to be on the table for hours. You won't be able to see anything."

"Oh, you mean just like I couldn't see anything of the ultrasound today? A Hi-Def camera and screen and I'll be all set," House said putting his arms behind his head.

"You are not usually a paranoid person," Lydia said. "But that's taking it to a new level. You're going to have three doctors in there that you've known and trusted for years. Why go to extreme measures?"

"I've trusted them with patients, not with me," replied House.

"They saved your life after the crane collapse," his girlfriend noted.

"Wilson had a hand in that, too." Reaching down to rub his leg, House's face clearly displayed his displeasure with the subject. "I've got a long time before I make a decision on how to handle the O.R. chess board; I'm not going to worry about it now."

"When were you thinking of having the operations?"

"May…after you graduate." House looked away from Lydia and braced himself for her reaction.

"May? Six months from now?" Lydia shot him a look and moved away slightly. "Sounds to me that after finding out all of this information, and taking the time to explain things to me, you're just deliberately delaying the operation!" She felt herself getting upset, and knew that wouldn't do the situation any good. "Greg…please try and make me understand why you want the delay." House turned back toward Lydia.

"Because there's a bunch of stuff happening in the next six months, and for some strange, insane reason…I actually want to be a part of it." Lydia knew not to let herself get too excited; House's idea of "stuff" he wanted to be a part of could be anything from a monster truck show to a frog jumping contest featuring side betting.

"What's going to be happening?" she hesitantly asked. House frowned, and looked very thoughtful for a minute.

"In a few weeks, my best friend is going to get married to your best friend; and despite the fact that Wilson has a collection of champagne glasses that say 'Bride' and 'Groom' because that's all he got to keep from his prior mistakes," House said with a smile. "I'm happy to say that I honestly believe that he's getting it right. And I intend on being there for it. Other than work-related subjects, it may be the last thing I see him do right."

"Why do you say that?" Lydia asked.

"Because in the next few months Wilson will enter the realm of Daddyhood, and for some reason I find that highly amusing." House was trying his hardest not to laugh, but it was no use. Lydia gave him a playful tap on the arm.

"You're mean; I think James and Annie are going to make excellent parents," she said, laughing a bit herself.

"Yeah, they will; and I'd like to stake my claim as Uncle House since everyone seems determined to force the role on me," said House. "Besides, the further along Songbird goes, the more problems that could come up, including with the delivery; I want to be there to help if needed."

"James is a doctor," Lydia said. "I'm sure he could handle anything that comes up."

"As you pointed out to me earlier, when you're emotionally involved with your patient, you lose a clear prospective on things," House said tilting his head toward his girlfriend. "In addition to the wedding and the bambino, there's our trip to Germany, and your graduation to consider." Lydia shook her head.

"Greg, I'll be finished my courses and my clinic hours by the end of December. I can ask to be part of the mid-year graduation in early January. And as far as our trip goes…we can postpone it. I'm sure someone from the federal government isn't going to come knocking on our door over it."

"You'd be surprised," House responded. "They'll probably want to know why I suddenly decided not to transport a hot property across international borders." He reached over and began to run his hand up and down Lydia's leg.

"Ha, ha…very funny," Lydia said as she leaned over and gave House a kiss.

"It's not, actually; there are no guarantees with this," he said taking a hold of his leg. "I will never be completely free of pain, but in the best case scenario, it will be incredibly better than it is right now. Will I be able to run at the kids' soccer games and…do a bunch of other things I used to do? Maybe. It depends on how much damage there actually is in there and whether the transplant will take." House looked at Lydia. "And how much pain I'm willing to go through with rehabbing. I knew Tom's reputation before I met him was outstanding, but I went into things with him cautiously." House shook his head. "He's proved to me his reputation was well earned, and if he tells me to jump…I'll clear the top of this house."

"I knew you and he would get on well," Lydia said smiling. "It's not just that he's very good at what he does; he reads people well and adjusts his methods depending on the personality of the patient. Plus his patients know he's speaking from experience, being a double amputee."

"Love to see the profile he developed for me," House said. "The worst case scenario in all this, would be there is only a minimal reduction in pain…and I'm in a wheelchair for the rest of my life because there isn't enough muscle left in there to support my body if the transplant doesn't take." House saw the stunned expression on Lydia's face. "You think you're ready to deal with that?"

"The real question is, are you?" she asked. House closed his eyes.

"You know how people always tell you what a miserable, self-centered bastard I can be? And you always say, you've never seen that side of me? Well, if I wind up playing 'Ironside'…you're going to have a front row seat." Lydia averted her eyes from her boyfriend's. She knew what he was saying was true; while never watching one of House's outbursts, or having it directed at her, she knew from what everyone told her he was capable of being extremely cruel. Would she be lying…or worse just kidding herself…if she said she could handle it? Maybe he wouldn't act that way toward her, maybe…oh hell; you're hardest on those closest to you. She knew that from taking care of her parents after they were disabled by their car accident; Michael and Marie Strohman said the most horrible things to their daughter. Accused her of stealing, said she was trying to kill them…told her she was a whore, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. It was gut wrenching for her to hear the cruel accusations from her parents.

And yet, she never let them break her.

Lydia found a way to fight back, to look at herself in the mirror each morning and night, and know that she did the best she possibly could for them. No daughter could be expected to do more than what she did, and put up with their verbal abuse besides.

If she could do that for people she was _supposed_ to love…her parents…who's to say she couldn't do it for someone she _chose_ to love…

"I'll handle it," Lydia said firmly. "We'll handle it together." House was surprised at the no-nonsense tone to his girlfriend's voice. He knew she had been through plenty of tough times in her life…her parent's car accident, Annie's attack and subsequent ten year catatonic state her best friend lingered in, her abusive marriage…and he admired her greatly for coming through it all with a good attitude still intact. But this was something different he heard in her voice and saw in her eyes; he knew that if anyone tried to mess with her on the subject of helping him with his leg, they would lose…badly.

"Thanks," House said quietly. Despite his best efforts, he was starting to feel emotional. "I wouldn't…I wouldn't have a snowball's chance in Antigua if you weren't on board with this."

"I know," Lydia said as she took House's hand in hers. "But let's get one thing straight right from the start; I am not doing this out of pity, or guilt or obligation. I am doing this for you because I love you…plain and simple. No fancy explanations of why other than I wouldn't _let_ anyone else try to help you get through this; no one knows you the way I do…except James." House smirked.

"Yeah, you and Wilson would have a pretty good pissing contest over that wouldn't you? Although based purely on anatomy, I think he'd win." Lydia narrowed her eyes as she looked at House.

"Don't…ever…doubt…me!" Lydia reached over and poked House in his left side; when he didn't react, she knew she was in trouble.

"Not ticklish today; but I know someone who always is." House rolled to his left and managed to grab Lydia as she tried to squirm away.

"No! Greg! Ah…Greg!" He had her pinned and could have easily continued to make her squeal, but House quickly thought of a much better use for their situation; he leaned over and kissed Lydia repeatedly. He ran his hand down her body and her wriggling changed rapidly to squirming. He gathered her up in his arms and held her in a tight hug.

"I love you, Lydia." She smiled. Usually it was, "I love you, Fraulein," and even that was kept quiet, except from a chosen few. But when House was feeling very vulnerable and/or emotional, he called her by her given name. And when he did, she adored him for being brave enough to let her in just a little bit more.

"I love you, too, Greg." Lydia reached up and stroked the back of his neck. House laid her back down on the mattress, leaning over to give her a random kiss from time to time. "Hon, I understand why you want to wait until May to do the operation. Those are all very important things you spoke about, and I'm thrilled that you want to make sure that you're there for them. Are you sure the wait won't do any more damage to your leg?"

"Nothing can get much worse in the next six months than it already has over the years," House said.

"How long will you have to stay in the hospital?"

"From the first operation to clean it out, to the restoration and transplant? Three to five weeks. Maybe less, maybe more. Most patients head to a rehab facility afterward."

"James didn't," Lydia noted.

"Wilson had Tom," House said.

"And so will you." Nodding his concession to Lydia's point, House still had in the back of his mind the fact that stairs were going to be impossible for him for a long time to come. "Hon? What's wrong?" Lydia asked.

"Still thinking about living arrangements," he said as he scowled. House looked at Lydia; her eyes were wide open, she had a huge grin on her face and she was rapidly tapping on his shoulder.

"You're either having a seizure or you just came up with a brilliant idea; wanna fill me in?"

"Where did James go when he got out of the hospital?" Lydia was asking an unnecessary question, but House decided to play along.

"He came back here to Annie's apartment," he answered.

"Right! Wheelchair and all. Now, in a few weeks when she and James get married, where will she be living?"

"At Wilson's place," House said a smile starting to come over his face.

"Which leaves Annie's apartment…

"Empty!" they said together.

"Greg, it'll be perfect! We know a wheelchair can maneuver in there because of how things went when James moved in after his hospital stay. There's the bathroom, the kitchen…everything you'd need to be OK when I'm at work. And…it will help with the new house." The concept Lydia was going for wasn't fully clicking in, so House waited for his girlfriend to continue. "When we were talking about the new house the other day, we agreed that we're going to have to limit the stairs. You had the idea of a master bedroom suite for us on the main floor, and the kids' rooms and the guest room on the second floor. I love the idea, but I'm worried how the kids would handle it. This arrangement of you and I moving our bedroom to Annie's apartment would be the perfect test run!" If it weren't for the fact that House was still hovering over his girlfriend, he had the feeling Lydia would be jumping up and down on the bed.

"It'll work until Annie wants to move out on Wilson after he wakes the youngster up at seven in the morning with his blow dryer," House observed. He looked at Lydia; she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought her face up near his.

"It will really work…right?" she asked. House put a stern expression on his face as he looked at his girlfriend.

"Leave it to you to find the sparkly bunnies and unicorns in the cesspool of life," he said. "Yeah, it'll work." The two began kissing, gently, tenderly, both of them so glad that they could move forward with plans to help House's leg. "I hate to be a killjoy, but I could use that nap you mentioned earlier," House said. He rolled off his hip and returned to a sitting position on his side of the bed.

"I think it's a good idea," Lydia said. She sat up and scooted over to her pillows.

"No, it's not. Thing One and Thing Two aren't going to be home for hours and we're wasting the opportunity to shatter the quiet with torrid screams of ecstasy." Lydia fiddled with her cell phone.

"I'm setting the alarm for two hours," she said. "Let's see what we feel like doing then."

"Deal," House said. "Doctor's orders on one thing." Lydia looked at him. "You have to fall asleep in my arms."

"Mmmm…and I always try to follow doctor's orders." She moved closer to her boyfriend and wriggled down until her head was even with his shoulder. House brought his arm up and around her, and kissed the top of her head.

"See you in a little while," Lydia said reaching over to give House a kiss.

"Yep," he replied. The two of them lay together for a while. House heard and felt Lydia's breathing change and knew she had fallen asleep. He had no such luck. While he had promised to stop obsessing over what had happened in the past, it was hard to fully block it from his mind.

He could have tried to have his leg fixed right after the incident happened…but instead of staying with him, Stacy left him to deal with it alone.

Cuddy was a doctor…_his_ doctor. Even if she had nothing to do with his leg being butchered, she could have helped him, offered suggestions…instead there were trip wires, hidden canes…she left him to his own devices.

House closed his eyes. He needed something to get him to stop thinking about long ago and far away, and instead think about the here and now. He opened his eyes; he realized he had what he needed.

_We'll handle it together_…the words House had been waiting to hear for years.


End file.
